I'm a clinical psychologist and psychoanalyst. For 20+ years I've been practicing on 12th Street, around the corner from the Forbes Building and right in the middle of the digital revolution — both of them. Having written for professional audiences and become a not infrequent source (e.g., Wired, New York, NY Times, The Today Show) I figured Web 2.0 was the right time to put my ideas out there myself. First at True/Slant, then Psychology Today, and now at Forbes, my "beat" includes clinical insights and research developments useful for building an authentically good life in our increasingly complex and technologically-mediated world, along with identifying those choices that promise more than they can deliver. Along with my full-time private practice I'm a Training and Supervising Psychoanalyst at the William Alanson White Institute and a Clinical Assistant Professor in Psychiatry at New York Medical College.

Eleven Years Since 9/11: If You Don't Take Time to Remember, You Forget

September 11, 2001 attacks in New York City: View of the World Trade Center and the Statue of Liberty. (Image: US National Park Service ) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Eleven years is a long time. Long enough for the national trauma to lose some meaning. So, like I now do every year, I want to take a moment to remember, really remember. I hope you will do the same; take some time. Remember the sounds, the images, the smells (especially powerful if you were near Ground Zero), and the feeling of the fall of 2001.

If you don’t take time to remember, you forget.

Memory needs attention. It is “active,” “dynamic,” “creative.” Human memories don’t sit static in our minds/brains like bits in our machines. We make our memories. We don’t find them. In fact, we make memories, re-make them, and re-re-make them in an ongoing process (it’s called living). What we do with today’s eleventh anniversary becomes part of tomorrow’s memory. What we do today will help create how the twelfth anniversary will feel. It helps create what 9/11 will mean to us and to all those who were not around on that day.

Memory also smoothes the rough edges. It makes the story fit the current moment. For the lucky majority, traumatic events get sanded down by subsequent events. Consider how memories of Memorial Day, a day for all those who have died in our nation’s service, have become nothing more than mirror smooth recollections of last year’s BBQ. But I don’t just want to remember THAT 9/11 happened. I want to remember how it felt, what it meant to us.

For me, that crisp, blue early Autumn morning when a plane crashed into the first tower feels both distant and like yesterday. Sitting in my office I can easily conjure the acrid smell that took over downtown New York, came through my window, and lingered for months. At the same time, it seems like something that never happened, like a distant event borrowed from someone else. The act of remembering is like that. It lets us both recreate salient, specific details while also covering emotional pain with whatever distance we need to go on.

I was listening to WNYC, our local public radio station, before leaving the house for a 9:15 appointment. The announcer sort of casually reported that there was some sort of fire at the World Trade Center. Not thinking much of it, I turned the radio off, left the house, and got on the subway.

After climbing the steps back up at 7th Ave. and 12th St., I saw the wound on the North Tower. People were starting to gather at the corners to stare. But I had a patient waiting so I high-tailed it east across 12th to get to my office.

By the time I got to 6th Avenue the stares had turned to fear. There were tears. The South tower was now also spitting smoke and fire. Several people were already saying “we’re under attack,” “it must be an attack, not a helicopter accident.” A famous actress known to live on the block had her arm around a friend and their were bawling. Many people were.

I continue down the block on time for my 9:15 appointment. As that first session inches towards its 10 AM conclusion, my patient and I feel things rumble and shake. Subtle, but unmistakeable. Palpable relief crosses both our faces. She says must be helicopters and planes flying to the rescue. I say something like “thank goodness, the cavalry”—sometimes hope is everywhere in psychotherapy, even when it does not really belong.

My next patient comes in a little after 10 and says a tower fell down. What?!?! I leave her sitting in my office while she frantically called a friend who worked at the WTC. I run to the corner fully expecting to see both towers. Instead, I see one burning tower and smoked filled sky. I come back to learn her friend ran late that morning and was OK. At 10:28 the ground rumbled and shook, again. This was not hopeful. We both knew what had happened. Psychotherapy also has to let reality have its say.

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Each 11/9 i remember that horrible day. i was sitting on the floor sewing and as thats boring i put on the tv. OMG! at first i thought its a science fiction movie and it took some time to realise: oh no…this is real :´( i know many germans that think of YOU all today just like me. Greetings, Bettina

We all have busy lives but if we can’t be bothered to remember those who lost their lives on that day then I think it takes a lot of value from our own. I wasn’t in the city when this happened. I was safe in Florida but like many I watched this unfold on CNN. My sister had moved to Manhattan shortly before the attacks and I couldn’t reach her and my wife was home with our new born in a panic. We had clients in one of the towers.

My sister was at the other end of the island, my wife calmed and our clients all made it out okay.

In my mind, 9/11 is still fresh as it is for many. It changed who we are. In many ways for the better and in some ways for the worse. On this day, I’ll remember those who died, think of those who lost loved ones, the responders and how the country was on 9/10.

Thank you Todd for your rememberance. I too was in My office on 12 Street and a new Pt. said she was on the corner and could see a fire. When she did not come, I went to the corner to look for her and saw the second plane go into the tower.Still thinking it could be a small Piper Cub going into the building, then an hour later all hell broke loose. As an Emergency Mental Health Volunteer, I went to St Vincent Hospital and when we saw that the ambulances were not bringing people back. I then know what a disaster it was S everyone running up and grime on their face was very frightening Avenue with shoes in their hands. A few days later we were all working at Pier 95, getting the stories and reconnecting people with their families. It was a bright sunny day such as today. Barbara Lidsky LCSW

Remembrance is still sad. I rememeber my friends Leslie and Charlie, both of them only children, and their two little girls. You can occasionally see them as they replay the security tapes of passengers boarding at Dulles on that day. All four were murdered that day at the Pentagon. With those four deaths, those two families no longer exist.

I’m a father of two girls and your words make my heart ache. I want to think that it is better that those you wrote about all went out together but rage won’t let me get around the facts. I’m sorry for the loss of your friends.